


Brand New Day

by ushnuu



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: F/M, monday after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7747000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ushnuu/pseuds/ushnuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She just has to trick herself into believing that they'll all be there for her, even if she might not wholly believe it. That's the only way she'll be able to walk through the front door. A 'Monday After' fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brand New Day

Walking up the front steps of Shermar High School had never been a particularly difficult feat. Every day was always the same. Today, however - as Allison Reynolds jumps out of her father’s car, without even so much as an acknowledgment of the other’s existence passing between them - her hands are shaking. Most days are normally the same. As she walks down the hallway, head down, the cheerleaders always laugh, the popular kids always sneer and the jocks always never even notice that she is there.

Slamming the passenger seat of the car shut, Allison begins to walk towards the school. She shoves her hand into the pocket of her over grown coat. Maybe her hair is slightly more brushed today, but all the make up is gone. The headband lays rejected on her bedroom floor. The make over that Claire Standish had preformed in the last five minutes of Saturday detention is but a distant memory. Something that only herself, Claire, Bender, Brian and Andrew will remember.

Andrew. As the name crosses her mind, she can feel her hands begin to shake even more. The kiss shared between the two of them had been something she had believed in - for about as long as it took to drive home. The more she thought about it, the more Claire’s words rang in her ears. ‘I don’t think so.’ I don’t think we can be friends on Monday. I don’t think I can stand up to my friends on Monday. I don’t think that we can break the stereotypes of the school in one day. I don’t think so. That was all it meant to Allison, and the more she thought about it over the weekend, the more she knew it was true. There is no way that the moment she walks through those doors Claire is going to run over, gushing about her hair, or Bender is going to offer her some more weed, or Andrew is even going to acknowledge her. The only person that Allison has placed any faith in is Brian, and that is only because he’s not like them. He has no image to uphold. Besides, his friends in the math club have probably never even touched a real girl.

Closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath, Allison tries to shake the thoughts in her head. Maybe she should be slightly more optimistic about the whole thing. Maybe Claire will have changed over the last two days. Maybe she’ll stop being such a Richie Bitchie, and get her act together. Maybe if Claire Standish can do it, the others can too.

Allison decides that this is the story she is going to stick with. When she walks through the doors, Claire will acknowledge her. It’s better than thinking that nothing came out of Saturday. It’s better than being pessimistic about the whole damn situation. If she looks on the bright side, at least for now, maybe it’ll be a little easier to get up the nerves to actually walk into the school.

With the positive thoughts running through her head, she yanks open the front door of the school and steps inside. A few students push past her, trying to escape to the outdoors, barely even noticing that she is there. That is alright, though - she barely even notices they are there either. They are not people of importance to Allison. The important people in her life she can count on one hand. Less than one hand, actually. Bender, Brian, Claire and Andrew. She knows they will be there for her, or at least that is what she is trying to trick herself into thinking. It seems to be the only way that progressing any further than the doorway will be possible.

With a quick glance around the hallway, she can see that none of them are in her immediate line of sight. Maybe that’s a good thing, since it will give her a chance to work up some more nerve to actually go and talk to them. Or maybe it’s bad, because if they really wanted to see her, wouldn’t they be waiting for her? She decides to just cast the thoughts aside, like she seems to be doing with every idea running through her brain. Allison is only going to concentrate on one thing - the possibility that they’ll all accept her as easily as they did two days ago.

She keeps her eyes on her shoes as she talks a few tentative steps down the hallway. Other shoes rush past her - boots, high heels, Nikes - each belonging to a different clique at Shermer. Allison’s never really fit into any such clique. She’s one of the few outcasts who doesn’t fit in anywhere and prefers to eat their lunches in secluded stairwells or empty hallways.

“Watch where you’re going freak,” someone spits at her, shoving Allison to the left as they hurry past. She glances up to see it was one of Claire’s friends, her blonde curls bouncing as she rushes down the hall in a different direction. If she is nearby, Allison can only assume Claire will be around there too.

She can see them up ahead. Claire is standing there in all her glory, dressed mostly in pink, while three other girls stand around her laughing. John Bender is nowhere to be seen. Allison chews softly at her bottom lip. She has to do it. She has to walk over to some of the most popular girls in school and see how Claire reacts. Only then will she get some peace of mind about the whole situation. She just needs to know if things changed.

Allison walks over slowly, dragging her feet with each step she takes. One of the girls - a small and slender brunette - notices Allison making her way over and points it out to the other three. They all look at her as she makes her way over, so she decides to hurry up and get it over with. She doesn’t like everyone’s gaze on her.

“Hi,” she squeaks out as she approaches the circle of girls so different from herself. They don’t have any ’black shit’ on their eyes. They have their hair perfectly styled, their dresses and skirts perfectly pressed, their jewellery reflecting just how rich their daddies are.

“What do you want, freak?” the brunette asks, her lips curling into a sneer that seems to take up her whole face.

She stares at the girl for a moment, before her eyes flicker back to Claire. “I was just-” she begins, her eyes begging the redhead for help.

“I don’t care what you ‘were just’,” another girl responds, her hands on her hips. “You interrupted our conversation with your stupid nonsense. Now go away.”

“Claire,” Allison whispers, her voice dripping with desperation and her eyes still begging for a friend.

“Go away Whacko,” she says, her brown eyes cold and hard. Her guard that she dropped down on Saturday has been built back up brick by brick.

“Claire,” she repeats, sounding more desperate than she really wants to. She has placed faith in this girl and all she’s down is stomped it down.

“What?” she snaps.

Allison swallows and shoves her hands deep into her pockets once more. “What about Saturday?” she questions, not really caring what this does to Claire’s reputation. She’s rejected her, even though Allison had though Claire considered her a friend. “What about what happened? The makeover? The talk? John? Does that mean nothing to you now?”

“What’s she talking about, Claire?” the brunette asks, a look of accusation crossing her face.

“Nothing, Mel. She’s delusional. I didn’t even know she knew how to speak.”

She can feel the anger boiling up inside of her, and it takes everything in Allison’s power not to scream at Claire. Scream about the fact that her reputation matters more to her than the friends who understand her and care for her. “You need to stop thinking you’re such hot shit,” Allison says. “Because you’re not. They don’t understand you the way me, or John or Brian understand you.”

“John? John Bender?” Claire asks, her voice sounding incredulous, although Allison swears she sees a glimmer of true emotion in the redhead’s eyes. Something like true feelings for the boy that Allison saw her kiss. “Why would that wasteoid mean anything to me. Just get out of her, you lunatic.”

She bites her bottom lip again, trying to think of what else she can say to convince the Princess that she’s not all she thinks she is. She needs to convince her that she needs the four of them, but Allison doubts that Claire will budge at all. “Fine,” she says. “I just hope you know that we truly do care.” Her voice is getting louder with each word she speaks, the anger beginning to spill out. “And you may think that they like you, but they don’t. They like your money, Claire. They like your popularity. And I’m sorry that that means more to you then our friendship. I thought you changed on Saturday, but you didn’t. You’re still just a bitch!”

A few of the girls flinch at Allison’s last few words, which had reached quite a loud level. Claire stands her ground, her mask not breaking at all. She still acts as if she doesn’t care but, deep down, Allison is sure she does. She still has feelings for John. She could tell from the small break in her composure that had occurred when Allison had mentioned his name.

She turns on her heel and storms off, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. One of the girls laughs as she storms off and Allison just clenches her eyes shut, trying to shut out the sounds and everything going on around her.

Just because Claire didn’t change, doesn’t mean the others didn’t. Claire seemed to be the only one truly not ready to break the social barriers. Maybe John and Brian and Andy will be different. Tears sting at her eyes, but she tries to push them away. It’s not a lost cause yet. She knows that Bender always hangs around his locker, occasionally with the other burners at the school, so that’s where Allison heads next.

She takes a right and heads down the hallway. She can see John leaning against his locker with his ‘not giving a shit’ attitude etched into his face. Allison sucks in a few deep breaths as she walks towards him, hoping the outcome will be different than with Claire. He is alone, after all. There’s really no one he has to impress.

“Hey John,” she says, walking up to him.

His eyes widen at Allison’s voice and he looks down at her. “Allison,” he whispers. “What are you doing?”

“I just came to say hi,” she says, fidgeting with the strap of her purse.

“Why?”

She bites her lip tightly, knowing where this is going. “Well, why not?” she says. “I mean, after Saturday I thought-”

“Didn’t you hear what Claire said?” he asks, interrupting what she was saying. “We can’t do this. I can’t invite you to be with me and my friends.”

“Well, why not?” Allison questions. “You told Claire she was being a bitch for not wanting to have anything to do with us.”

“She is a bitch,” he says, glancing away from Allison. She wonders if he still has feelings for the girl, just like she believes Claire still has feelings for him. “She wants to pretend it never happened. She never wants to speak to any of us again. We can still talk just…. Not at school. It won’t work here at school.”

Allison shakes her head. “You’re just like her, you know. John, I thought you were different. I thought you wouldn’t care. You got mad at Claire for not wanting to deal with me!”

“We can still talk,” he repeats. “Just not here. My friend’s will desert me if they see us talking together.”

“So?” she asks, her voice squeaking as the word leaves her lips. “So, why does it matter? Don’t I matter more than those junkies?”

John’s face hardens and he almost looks like Claire had moments before. “Don’t you talk about my friends like that,” he says, glaring at Allison.

“Aren’t we your friends, John? What about Claire? I saw you kiss her. Doesn’t she matter at all to you?”

He moves his hand to his ear and Allison spots a new earring, one eerily similar to the diamond studs Claire had been wearing on Saturday. As he catches he watching he moves his hand to his hair as if he hadn’t even touched his ear at all. “She doesn’t matter. She’s just a bitch.”

“I know that’s not true,” Allison says, her hands flying to her hips. “We all matter to you, but you’re just too much of an asshole to realize it! All you care about is looking cool in front of your friends. I know that you care.”

John swallows and stays silent for a moment. Then he looks Allison straight in the face and says, “I’ve got to go. I can’t do this. Don’t come up to me in the halls again. If you do, it’s not my fault what my friends or I might say to you.” He slams his locker shut and walks away, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans.

Allison exhales deeply, trying to regain control. Neither Claire nor Bender want anything to do with her. Despite what Bender says about wanting to hang out with her outside of school, she doesn’t quite believe him. Neither of them can ruin their rep by hanging around with the school Basket case - or each other for that matter.

Her eyes begin to water, but Allison just wipes the tears away. She’s losing the confidence she had the moment she walked through the school doors. She no longer believes in the good in humanity. Everyone is too focused on what other’s think and not on what they want for themselves. It’s nauseating. She keeps her head down as she scurries to her locker, just wanting to get to class and get this whole mess out of her head. The only member of detention she has any classes with is Bender, and the plan is just to avoid the four of them as best as she can.

The small brunette reaches her locker and leans over to spin the correct combination. She lets her hair fall into her eyes, not even caring about her appearance anymore. Obviously no one even cares about her. As the lock clicks open, she pulls her books out and hugs them tightly to her chest. They’re like a safety net.

As she looks up and shuts her locker she spots Brian walking down the hallway with one of his fellow math clubbers. She figures it’s worth a shot, even if she holds no faith in the blonde boy, and raises her right hand in a wave of acknowledgement. Brian’s gaze connects with hers, but he shows no signs of recognition. He just keeps talking as if Allison is dead to him.

That’s the last straw. The tears spill out of her eyelids and down her cheeks. She doesn’t even try to stop them anymore. Brian Johnson, the only one she really expected to be nice to her, had just completely ignored her. Even he wants nothing to do with her. She doesn’t even care if people see her cry. They already think poorly upon her, and the only one’s that really matter to her don’t even care. She’s not even going to try and find Andrew. She knows the reaction will be the same.

The tears are clouding her vision, so she tries to wipe them away with a quick motion of her hand. They still continue to come, though, mourning the future she thought she had. The chance to actually have friends. It’s all gone now.

She’s nearly to her homeroom when she spots him. Andrew is standing by his locker with a bunch of the other Sportos, talking and laughing like they must do everyday. Like nothing’s changed. But something has changed. It’s all changed. On Friday, Allison wouldn’t have cared what Claire Standish, or Andrew Clark or John Bender were doing. Now, on Monday, she cares. On Friday, her heart hadn’t been stomped upon. No, on Monday, she felt as though she was going to hurl. Even in all the negative situations she’d imagined, Brian had at least waved to her. Not necessarily been her friend, but had at least acknowledged her existence. Claire had given her a small smile, even if she was talking about Allison behind her back. Anything was better than this.

Allison keeps her head down as she passes the group. They’re laughing and joking and she believes she hears Larry’s name mentioned. They’re probably still talking about the stunt Andrew pulled, the one that landed him in detention. A few more tears spill out, and Allison ignores them. It’s hopeless. The talking seems to grow quieter as she walks past them, as if they’re all watching her. Probably going to laugh about her behind her back once she is out of earshot.

She swallows the lump in her throat, and tries to imagine an ideal situation. One that would have been perfect. She pictures herself laughing with Claire at lunch, while holding onto Andrew’s arm. She imagines sitting beside Bender in class and getting homework help from Brian. None of that will happen, though. And she knows that. Sometimes it’s just nice to dream.

“Allison!” an exasperated voice shouts. She pauses midstep, wondering how many times he’s called her name while she was off in her own thoughts. She doesn’t turn around, just stays where she is and lifts her head. Her hair still hangs in her face. She makes no effort to make herself look nice.

“What do you want, Andrew?” she asks, her voice cold and hard like Claire’s had been. He reaches her and places a hand on her shoulder as he stands beside her.

“Why weren’t you answering me?”

“I didn’t hear you,” she says honestly. “I was just…. Thinking.”

He moves in front of her and looks into her eyes. “Have you been crying?” he asks, touching her cheeks. A few more tears slide out of her eyes, as if responding to the wrestler’s question. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she responds, growing defensive like she was before she explained her home situation on Saturday. “It doesn’t matter. Just go back to your friends.”

He gives her a surprised look. “Listen, Allison, I just want to talk.”

The tears spill over again and she wipes them away. “I know,” she says, shaking her head and biting her lip. “I know, and don’t even bother. I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say the same things that John and Claire did. I know it.” She lets out a ragged sigh and walks past him to continue down the hallway.

“Allison!” he calls her name again but she just ignores him. She doesn’t want to hear any of his excuses. She’s sick of it. She’s sick of feeling like she’s so worthless that even her supposed friends want nothing to do with her. “Allison, wait! I just want to talk to you!”

She keeps walking, despite the little voice in the back of her head telling her she should stop and hear what Andrew has to say. She hears snickers coming from his group of friends and she has a feeling they’re directed at her. Allison can hear Andy’s feet picking up in a run and she just tries to walk faster.

He reaches out and grabs her hand that is not holding her books to her chest. She tries to pull away but his grip is too tight. “Let me go you asshole!” she shouts, trying to pull herself free. Andy stares at her for a moment before pulling her in close and kissing her gently on the lips.

Allison is shocked at first, but then she relaxes and closes her eyes, kissing him back. She is the one to pull away, and she uses that chance to wipe the tears from her face once more.

“Clark!” one of the other wrestler’s shouts from down the hallway, “What the hell are you doing, man?”

Andy ignores them and stares at Allison. “I just wanted to talk,” he repeats. “About us. I saw Bender today and he wouldn’t even talk to me. I was just making sure that we were still okay.”

She grins. She can’t help it. Andrew Clark is standing there, holding her. He’s the only one that was truly there for her at all. He’s the only one that truly cares about her. “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft and just above a whisper.

“For what?” he questions, tilting his head to the left.

“For being there. Thank you. Everyone else rejected me today.”

“And you thought I’d do the same, huh?” Andy mutters. “That explains things, I guess.” He chuckled softly and Allison can’t help but grin at the sound. “I really care about you,” he says, wiping the few remaining teardrops off of her cheeks. “I would never do that to you, I promise.”

“Thank you,” she repeats, not knowing what else to say. “But what about your friends?”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “They can all just go to hell. I don’t even care what they think anymore.”

Allison takes a step back to look him over, take him all in. “Andrew Clark,” she says, shaking her head and smiling, “You are certainly one of a kind.”

“Thanks, I think.”

She laughs. “It’s a good thing, you dummy.”

“Oh,” he says, grinning broadly. “So, uh, since we’re all good now, would it be alright if I walked you to class?” He holds out his right hand to her and she gladly takes it. She wonders for a fleeting moment what his friends think about this, then realizes that she doesn’t really care.

She has Andrew. She has one person in her life who cares about her more than he does what his friends may think. With Andrew, maybe the two of them can eventually teach the other students at Shermer High School that there are more important things than their cliques. They’ll just have to take things one step at a time.

 


End file.
